


Midnight Into Morning Coffee

by social_reject



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 04:35:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10983495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/social_reject/pseuds/social_reject
Summary: Of course Calum understood, he had understood years before Ashton turned up again. But his life -- while stationary and designated to his home and his family -- had been changing all the while. Ashton was a sudden and swift tornado set loose, stampeding its way through Calum's life and as the minutes ticked by and midnight turned to dawn, stale coffee on lips that reminded him of sins, Calum shuddered at the thought of dealing with the wreckage should the tornado leave him once more.





	Midnight Into Morning Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "I like me better" by Lauv

Calum sat silently across from Ashton, moonlight gazes and white knuckle grips on handles of coffee cups their only similarities. Ashton was a wanderer with tales of landmark adventures and endless romances. Calum was a front porch story with fond memories on swinging seats and a love lost to the world. Their abstract differences were starkly black and white. Gray had never been seen or compromised for. So, when a startling knock pounded on the paint faded wooden door of Calum’s home he hadn't been expecting to find what once was lost. Ashton had cracked half a smile when Calum pulled the heavy door open and streams of moonlight cascaded into the house. Calum had stepped down onto the porch, the screen door swinging undecidedly behind him. He'd instinctively wrapped his arms around his middle, protection from the night chilled air and protection for the war torn holes left in his heart.

Ashton hadn't meant to obliterate Calum in his wake, but he was feather fragile and left to trail behind Ashton, only stirred up and coaxed on by the breeze of Ashton's stride. And so, years later when Calum had inevitably found his way back to the front porch and Ashton had forgotten the feeling of Calum's soft touch but craved the feeling of silken skin on raised and silver work scars they'd found themselves under the light of the moon, brought back to each other like the tide. Calum hadn't invited Ashton in but he hadn't let him leave either. They sat uneasily at first on the porch swing, side by side but not touching, not talking, hardly even breathing as the reality around them seemed illusory.

Calum couldn't honestly say he hadn't imagined such a scenario before, but that was years ago and the faded hope that may have lingered in his chest felt only like dead weight and tattered promises after so long. But now, with Ashton mere inches from him that faded hope came blooming back into color. Calum held his coffee cup with apprehension and disbelief, years of made up moments and thoughts that led him to believe fairytale endings were deserved couldn't prepare him for the normality of the situation. Ashton was here and he was human and Calum was breathing the same oxygen as always, the moon phased like usual and the world spun on; unaffected and practiced.

Ashton blew out a breath, Calum's innate disposition to the effective way Ashton could get under his skin simmering somewhere below the surface. He wasn't sure why Ashton was back, he wasn’t sure why Ashton had barely said three words either. The silence was harrowing like the night around them, darkness seeping into bloodstreams and tinting veins black, blue bruises on necks from long lost pasts washing to the surface and making skin burn with memories. Calum let his eyes slip shut as his head fell back into the headrest of the swing, hardened wood doing little to cushion the thud of bone splintering uncertainty.

“I’ve missed you, you know,” Ashton _finally_ said.

Calum let his eyes open slowly _I didn't know_ sat at and scalded the back of his throat with an animosity he wasn't completely aware of.

Calum wasn't oblivious to the pain distance had imprinted on his body, throbs in his beating heart that felt like blisteringly hot knives lacerating his love had faded to dull aches and occasional yearning. He hadn't thought of Ashton lately, it was something he hadn't allowed himself to do. He held onto his resistance with a tight grip and reeled himself back in when he could feel himself slipping; scared he may drown. Now Ashton washed over him like an unforgiving wave, storm clouds colored like rainbows begging to see the sun hung over his head.

“Is that why you're here?” Calum suddenly questioned, a spike of courage rushing through him. “Because you missed me?”

“Why else would I have come back?” Ashton asked so simply.

Calum bit his lip, the simplicity of Ashton's response biting at him. Sure, in black and white it may have seemed simple. Ashton missed Calum. He came back to him. But the gray area of _why_ threatened to boil Calum's blood. He was tired, tired of seeing only one or the other side of the coin, he yearned to see the intricate ridges on the sides of the coin, to feel them roll on his skin and realize that there wasn't one or two sides but infinite ridges that led to infinite possibilities.

“Why don't you tell me?” Calum asserted. “Tell me why you missed me enough to come banging on my door unannounced at eleven thirty at night? Tell me why you missed me so much you didn't write or call in the years you'd been gone but decided now was a good time to come back?”

Ashton looked down at his hands, Calum's gaze never wavering from the once held eye contact that had seemingly burned holes into his pupils. Calum knew Ashton must have picked up on the venom in his tone, venom laced with desperation and pleading. Ashton shifted, the mere inches between them now feeling like miles of space. A thousand miles. A thousand miles that Ashton had ventured away from Calum just years before.

“ _Please_ just tell me why.”

And so he did. He told Calum. He told him that no matter where he went or who he was with it never matched up to what he felt when feathers were in his hair and softness cushioned his heart. He told Calum that every gaze he met he had imagined was his, dark and deep set brown eyes that shone like the night sky. But he realized he wasn't gazing at reality. He was glaring at the past that was completely out of reach. He had wandered to the ends of the earth in search of something more and stilled in his indecision when he realized that Calum had given him everything and more. Ashton told Calum that he was tired of seeing in black and white and that even when he started to see the gray he missed his tan skin and brown eyes and petaled pink lips that tasted like orange citrus. He missed him; and that was enough for Ashton to realize abstract was beautiful and their differences were what made them a kaleidoscope. They were tumbling colors crashing into each other; but not without purpose.

Calum finally shifted his gaze away from Ashton once Ashton was breathless and hopeful that Calum would understand. Of course Calum understood, he had understood years before Ashton turned up again. But his life -- while stationary and designated to his home and his family -- had been changing all the while. Ashton was a sudden and swift tornado set loose, stampeding its way through Calum's life and as the minutes ticked by and midnight turned to dawn, stale coffee on lips that reminded him of sins, Calum shuddered at the thought of dealing with the wreckage should the tornado leave him once more.

They sat in silence until the sun was making an appearance in the morning sky, Calum all the while contemplating what to say, what to do, what it was Ashton wanted from him and how much he'd be willing to give.

“ _Please_ just give me another chance, I promise I won't let you down this time.”

Calum traced patterns on his pants as Ashton's words sunk into his heart. His trailing finger worked its way up to the pocket of his pants and his hand restlessly dug around in search of a coin. To himself he thought: _heads, a chance, tails, not._ He flicked the coin off his fingers and watched as it fell to the porch floor, standing upright on its side, its ridges holding it perfectly in place. Something swept over him and as he turned to look back at Ashton he knew the answer all along, the answer something a coin could never tell him otherwise.

“We can try.”


End file.
